It’s night. He is huddled on the couch with his arms around her. Reading paperback novels and watching colourless movies. So safe and secure within his hold. She rests her head upon his chest and feels his hand roam through her hair.
When daylight breaks she’s all alone; filling her cup with coffee and staring at the pink sky. The memory of his touch haunts her skin. She wraps herself in a blanket and hugs her cup. Her hair falls into her face; it smells like his hand. She wraps a finger around a strand and pulls it over her mouth. She breathes, closes her eyes, and remembers his smell.
She watches the snow fall. He puts her hand in his and leads her down the glazed trail. Snowflakes drift softly, decorating her hair. He brushes the hair out of her forehead and kisses her as softly as the falling flakes. They dance and slip across the frozen lake, holding hands to brace each others’ fall.
The falling snow feels like his touch. She wraps her arms around herself and follows past footsteps home. She pulls her scarf up to her nose; the fabric reminds her of his fingers. She sleeps all night and half the day; she’d rather dream than stay awake.
This feels so real, but it’s all in my mind.
I’m caught within a swirling lie. Imagined memories fill my mind.
The borders have blurred away. Colours fade; they fade to gray.
Natalia Alexandrov 